


Whoever He Was

by midnighttypewriter



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1484086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnighttypewriter/pseuds/midnighttypewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew that there were no malicious intentions in their hunt for him but he couldn’t let them catch him, not yet. Not when he knew he wasn’t really the one they were looking for but had no answer to the question of who he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whoever He Was

“You look happier.”

Steve looked up and over his shoulder to find Sam watching him from across the room. It was a cheap hotel suite, just two beds and a wobbly desk Steve was using for drawing. They had been on the road for a few days now, running from one rumored sighting of the Winter Soldier to another.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe happier isn’t the right word,” Sam admitted. “But you look… like a man with a dream. Not a man on the mission. If you know what I mean.”

Steve shook his head but smiled regardless.

“It’s him, isn’t it? The Winter Soldier.”

Steve lifted his sketchpad for Sam to see. It was indeed a drawing of the Winter Soldier, from the back as he walked away from Steve that day they destroyed the helicarriers. Steve had drawn the picture from memory and he was certain he was just guessing for many details, but the general shape of Bucky’s body was so familiar he needed no reference to draw him.

“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s him that makes you look so content, that’s what I meant. That he’s alive, even if he is- Even if he isn’t exactly the man you remember.”

Steve set the sketchpad back on the desk, frowning. Was Sam right? Was he happier just for knowing that Bucky was still alive even if every minute of every day he could feel anxiety clutch at his chest? He was worried about how the next interaction between him and Bucky was going to go but at the same time, he couldn’t stop looking forward to it. “The world makes more sense with Bucky in it.”

***

James Buchanan Barnes had a name to think of himself now. He hadn’t remembered it, though he wished that was the case. He had learned it. James Buchanan Barnes, called Bucky by friends. It didn’t sound right in his head but neither did Winter Soldier.

James “Bucky” Barnes was a war hero.

Winter Soldier was an assassin and a mindless killer.

Both were a collection of hazy memories from a different life. They were coming back slowly, out of order, and he felt no true connection to them.

He wanted to start giving out false names but no one ever asked. 

In an oversized coat and gloves (the right one strategically torn to look used and to reveal a bit of human flesh), unshaven, with matted hair, he was just another man with no home. People avoided him. No one looked at him twice except maybe to make sure he was not following them. Once or twice someone threw a coin his way and once a girl shoved a sandwich into his hand, and he forced himself to not feel offended. It was better than going hungry. It was better than stealing. It was safer than looking for a shelter. 

Most nights he spent on the move. He didn’t need much sleep and even when he slept, he woke up easily. One night he almost shot a cat that toppled over a trash can. Loud noises made him uncomfortable. People were worse, though. He couldn’t look at a person without analyzing how much of a threat they were, thinking about how fast he could kill them if he had to.

Those weren’t things James “Bucky” Barnes would think. Neither were they Winter Soldier’s thoughts. The Winter Soldier followed orders and people were either a mark or they were simply parts of the surroundings, possibly obstacles. Never a threat because Winter Soldier had never felt fear. But the Winter Soldier had a burning desire to kill, which _he_ , whoever he was now, hadn’t.

There was only one thing he had that felt truly his own: the memory of the man on the bridge, on the helicarrier. He knew who the man was now, of course, in part from his research and in part from seeing his face through Bucky Barnes’ memories. But the only image that was sharp and real in his head was of the man’s beaten face and the words, _“I’m with you till the end of the line.”_

There was guilt connected to it because he was the one that had broken the man’s face. There was hope, because whoever he was these days, there was at least one person in the world who cared for him. There was also envy, because those words had been for Bucky Barnes, not for _him_. And there was something tender and bittersweet that he had no name for.

***

The man was following him. Captain America or Commander Rogers or Steve - he couldn’t quite decide what to call him in his thoughts - was constantly on his heels. Every few days, he caught the sight of Rogers and the winged man, but they rarely saw him.

He knew that there were no malicious intentions in their hunt for him but he couldn’t let them catch him, not yet. Not when he knew he wasn’t really the one they were looking for but had no answer to the question of who he was.

***

Most of the time, the rumors turned out to be false. People saw monsters everywhere these days and soon enough, Steve learned to evaluate which ones were even worth following. The more sensational the sighting, the less likely it was to be true. Winter Soldier kept to the shadows. He didn’t draw attention to himself and as far Steve could tell, he hadn’t killed anyone since the day the project Insight was destroyed.

Sometimes someone caught a glimpse of his arm, though. Sometimes there were reports of a man too strong to be human. And sometimes people tweeted - social media turned out to be very useful in this hunt - about an encounter with a homeless veteran. Those were the alerts worth following and most of the time after some asking around they got enough proof to establish Bucky had been there. Only a handful of times they got close enough to see him and every time he disappeared before they could reach him.

The first time Steve spoke to him was a cold evening and he was alone, two bags of takeout in one hand and a phone in the other. Bucky appeared right in front of him and for the first few seconds, Steve thought it was a hallucination. He shoved his phone into his pocket and mentally said goodbye to the food he would likely have to drop to the ground soon.

They both stood in a fighting stance, ready for the interaction to take a violent turn. Steve’s heart raced.

“Bucky.”

“You need to stop.”

The words, steel hard and cold, hit Steve in the stomach like a fist. “Bucky-”

“Stop calling me that. Stop following me. Stop- Just stop.” By the time the last two words left his mouth, Bucky’s cold determination melted away and he sounded almost desperate.

“Come home with me,” Steve said with the same desperation. “Please just let me take you home.” He took a step forward only for Bucky to step back.

“I’m not the man you want me to be. I can’t be. Not right now.”

“Not yet, perhaps, but I can- I can help you remember.” He had never had to sound this pathetic, this desperate with Bucky before. 

Bucky shook his head. “I remember everything,” he said. “Please, Steve. Please, just leave me be. When I’m- If I want to see you, I’ll come to you.”

It hurt worse than any of the injuries Steve had ever suffered.

***

“So we’re stopping the search because he told us to?” Sam asked and for the first time since they’d met, Steve heard a true disagreement aimed at him. Or perhaps it was disbelief.

“No, we’re stopping because he said that if he wanted to be around me, he would come to me himself.”

“I take it you’re waiting, not giving up, right?” Sam asked and Steve forced a smile.

“I hope so.”

***

When Steve stopped hunting for him and returned to New York City, Barnes followed. He didn’t want to the pressure of Steve treating him as someone he was not, but he wanted to be close. Not that he watched Steve every moment of every day, but he wanted to know that if he felt like seeing his face - in person, not on a poster - he could find him easily.

 _He gave up on you so easily_ , he thought to himself some days. That were the days when he wondered why he was still a part of the world when there was no one for whom he mattered. Then he remembered that some people would probably still find him useful as a weapon and those days he watched closely all the people around him for any sign of spy activity.

 _He respects your wishes_ , he told himself sometimes. On those days, he didn’t fight the urge to wander the streets of Brooklyn, changed but still familiar, and allowed himself to recall Bucky’s memories. 

_He realized you’re not his friend._ That were the days he felt infinitely alone in the world.

 _He trusts you to not kill anyone. He doesn’t think of you as a threat to society that needs to be eliminated._ On those days, he found himself hopeful. On those days he made promises to himself that as soon as he felt more secure in his skin, he would start looking for ways to help. Maybe he could redeem himself, make up for the things the Winter Soldier did.

In the meanwhile, Barnes stopped having the urge to shoot at cats. He still didn’t sleep much and avoided people as much as possible, but the world was no longer a battlefield. At least not constantly.

***

Steve had stopped following Bucky around the country, but he never stopped looking for a glimpse of his face wherever he went. He tried to. He tried to think of him as a part of life gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye. It had been difficult to come to terms with Bucky’s death when he had seen it. It was impossible to stop imagining him in his future when he knew he was alive.

Fortunately, there were enough distractions. Even with S.H.I.E.L.D gone, and perhaps thanks to that, there was always work for superheroes. 

So the next time he saw Bucky, it was in the middle of a fight with a group of rogues much stronger than they looked. They had ambushed him on what he considered his free time, caught him without his shield, and his strenght wasn’t enough to fight all three of them at once. He was having his head bashed into the concrete of the sidewalk when he caught, out of the corner of his eye, a dark blur moving forward, and then the attacker was being pulled off him. 

He jumped to his feet and rejoined the fight, Bucky’s presence at his side steadying him despite the pain deep inside his body.

***

Steve collapsed to the ground almost the same moment as the last villain. It took only a second for Barnes to evaluate the situation:

> All three villains were unconscious and unlikely to get back on their feet soon but not one was dead.
> 
> Someone had called the police. He could hear the sirens in the distance.
> 
> Steve was bleeding, the blood soaking his shirt, and breathing unsteadily.

Barnes dropped to his knees at his side, cradled him into his arms. “Someone call the ambulance,” he shouted, ignoring the raspy quality of his long-unused voice, because he couldn’t rely on Steve’s healing to be faster than the blood loss.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered.

Barnes swallowed the urge to ask not to call him that. “I’m here,” he said. 

The last time he saw Steve looking like that, this bloody and beaten, he was the one responsible for it. And yet the way Steve looked at him now… As if Barnes was the medicine for all his ills. 

“You came back.” Steve grasped Barnes’ hand, but his grip was weak. His voice was shaking. Barnes pulled up Steve’s shirt, found the gash in his torso, and pressed his palm against it. The bleeding was already slowing down, but he doubted that was the only injury. There were more bruises and bleeding cuts on Steve’s head and face, but hopefully, the help was coming.

“You needed me.” Barnes rested his chin on top of Steve’s head, breathed in his scent. “And I- I’ll be with you till the of the line.” The words sounded strange when he said them, as if they belonged to someone else, but Steve needed to hear them and Barnes was coming to realize that whoever he was now, he wanted it to be someone Steve looked at like that.

***

Steve was starting to get used to waking up in hospitals. That was no surprise. What surprised him was Bucky sitting at his side, a baseball cap hiding most of his face.

“Bucky.”

The smile on Bucky’s face was small and pained. “We’ll have to talk about that. Later.” He reached out his hand and brushed his fingers against Steve’s jaw. “You’re quite a sight.”

Steve covered Bucky’s hand with his own. “You’ve looked better yourself.”

“If you don’t like looking at me, I can leave…”

Gripping Bucky’s hand, Steve shook his head and regretted it as a jolt of pain shot through him. “Don’t you dare. I’m not in the state to chase after you.”

“In that case, I’ll wait.”


End file.
